


Be My Forever

by martinslawyer



Series: Golden [4]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, domestic life, no editing we die like men, slightly nsfw-ish in the middle, soft soft soft, surprise at the end ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinslawyer/pseuds/martinslawyer
Summary: lazy afternoons and pillow talks.what could be better than that?Martín has just the thing...
Relationships: Helsinki | Mirko Dragic/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: Golden [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829293
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Be My Forever

As far as their days usually went, the past week had been very lazy and peaceful.

Light filtering from the open windows casted a warm glow on their bare skin as they lay in bed, limbs tangled, sweet summer air ruffling the white sheets wrapped around them.

Mirko hadn’t been this content in years. Martín was half sprawled on top of him, head resting on his chest, with Mirko’s arm around him pressed to his lower back. Not asleep, evident from his breathing patterns, but content not to move for the moment.

He felt Martín press a kiss on the skin above his heart, and smiled to himself, feeling a surge of affection to the man between his arms.

He pressed another kiss, and another, and another, and Mirko cracked open an eye and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow and a big smile, “what are you doing?”

Martín looked up and rested his chin on Mirko’s chest, giving him a cheshire grin, “Nothing, just felt like it.”

Mirko chuckled and watched as Martín moved his arm up and started lazily drawing circles on Mirko’s skin. The circles turned into other shapes, and it took Mirko a few moments to recognize one of Martín’s formulas. He had a habit of practicing formulas to center himself, and Mirko wondered what was on his mind that had him thinking so hard.

He was about to ask him, when Martín suddenly looked up at him, “I love you.” He blurted.

Mirko’s entire body stilled, he didn’t dare breathe.

“you what?” he whispered.

“I love you.” Said Martin confidently.

He crawled further up until he was eye level with Mirko, and brought his hand to cup the side of Mirko’s face.

“I love you.” He said again, like it was a fact.

The sun is a star, the universe is infinite, and Martín Berrote loved Mirko Dragic.

Tears welled up in Mirko’s eyes and Martín bent down to kiss them away.

He knew it was there, he just didn’t expect to hear it. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think he deserved to be loved by someone as bright as Martín. How could he? He was a simple soldier, a cog in the machine. Meanwhile Martín was a brilliant engineer, the incredible mind behind the most convoluted of plans, an orchestrator whose movements lead to the most wonderful of melodies. He was the incandescent north star to Mirko’s weary soul. And he didn’t mind if he got burned.

Martín unexpectedly grabbed chin, as if he saw what Mirko had been thinking, and forced him to look into his eyes again, snapping him out of his musings.

“Listen to me, you big bear.” He said, loosening his grip, but not losing the severe look he had on his face.

“You, Mirko Dragic, are the kindest, sweetest, gentlest, and purest person i’ve ever had the fortune of knowing.” He started, “I’ve never met anyone that could even compare to how good of a person you are.

You looked at me, a ticking time bomb, and decided I was worth the time, worth the _love_.

You forgave me, when no one in your position would have so readily.

You were, and are, so patient with me even though i’m the biggest fuck up Argentina has to offer.”

Mirko chuckled breathlessly at the quip, and Martín smiled down at him, and brought his hand back to cup the side of his face, rubbing at his coarse beard.

“Don’t sell yourself so short, my love.”

The breath caught in his throat again at the last words and Martín smiled knowingly. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, the corner of his mouth, whispering “I love you” with every kiss.

Mirko’s heart felt too small to contain all the emotions he was feeling. he’d never been so happy in his life.

“I am bound to your heart, Mirko. Andrés may have been the first man I loved, but you, my sweet sweet _oso_ , are the truest and the last.”

He pressed a gentle kiss on Mirko’s lips and drew away.

Mirko, despite being overwhelmed with what Martín had just laid on him, still had the presence of mind to drag Martín back down for a kiss.

Bodies flushed together, Mirko flipped them so that he was on top.

He cupped Martín’s face with both hands, pushed his fringe away from his forehead, and kissed him again, slowly, languidly, pouring all that he didn’t know how to say into the kiss.

Martín wrapped his arms around Mirko’s neck and deepened the kiss, moaning softly when Mirko pinned one of his arms to the bed, the other tugging impatiently at Mirko’s beard.

Mirko pulled away and sat up, the sudden motion made Martín moan in protest.

Mirko pulled him up, one arm grabbing Martín’s and the other slinking under his back for support. Martín ended up straddling Mirko’s lap, a position he so very much loved being in considering the size of Mirko’s thighs, something he tells Mirko quite often. Much to Mirko’s enjoyment.

“I love you, _gatito._ So very much.” He pressed forehead to Martín’s and took a deep breath.

“I love you too, _oso._ ”

 _Oso._ Bear. A word that he started calling Mirko jokingly, had turned into a pet name of sorts. Unlike other size related words, Mirko loved this one very much. Actually Mirko loved everything Martín called him. Maybe he was biased to his little cat. No one would blame him if he was.

Minutes, hours, _eons,_ later, they lay in each other’s arms, breathless, sated, _loved._

Mirko looked at his beloved’s soft, smiling face and wondered for the nth time how he got so lucky to love and be loved by such a man as Martín Berrote.

Mirko Dragic hadn’t been very fortunate in his life. He lost the few people he managed to call his own, Oslo at the Mint, Nairobi at the bank. He managed to keep his promise to Martín and get both of them out alive, by some miracle from above.

And now?

Now he just wanted to keep this small, wonderful man by his side for however long he could.

He would ask for nothing more than the joy of having Martín Berrote by his side.

“Hey,” Martín’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and he realized he had been staring for a while now.

“Yes?” he answered, pretending that he hadn’t just been caught staring.

“What do you think about getting married?”

Mirko did a double take at that and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “who’s getting married?”

Martín rolled his eyes heavenward, “me and you, idiot.”

_Me and you._

Was he joking?

“Are you joking?” he repeated, because seriously, _what on earth?_

“I’m dead serious, _oso_.” and he sounded serious too.

“you want to marry… me?”

Martín threw his head back with a laugh, “yes? Who else would it be? Old Man Alessandro from the bakery??”

Mirko’s head was still reeling. _where was this even coming from?_

“listen,” started Martín, “I love you, and I won’t ever leave your side, you know that, right?”

Absently, Mirko nodded in agreement.

“right then why don’t we get married? I quite like the sound of Martín Berrote Dragic.” He smiled smugly and Mirko had to shake himself again.

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?” asked Mirko hesitantly, at Martín’s vigorous nod he added, “But why?”

“What do you mean why? We already live together, we love each other, unless this has all been an elaborate lie?” Mirko instantly shook his head, not bearing the mere suggestion of Martín having doubts if Mirko truly loved him or not.

Martín smiled softly at him, “well then, why not?”

In honesty, now that Mirko thought about it, it made sense.

The people in the town already thought they were married. Something that Mirko found endlessly entertaining.

They wouldn’t have a legal marriage of course, being wanted criminals, but a ceremony would suffice.

Mirko’s head hit the pillow and he gazed at the ceiling and let out a hearty laugh.

“We’re getting married.” He whispered to himself, incredulously.

“Damn right, we are.” He said and started to get up.

“Where are you going?” asked Mirko.

“I do believe it’s time to bring the gang back together,” he announced, “there’s a wedding to plan.”

He left a laughing Mirko in bed and sauntered to get dressed.

And Mirko thought how strange, and absolutely wonderful, his life had become.

**Author's Note:**

> so i think we can all agree that i can’t write smut for shit and that i shouldn’t be attempting it, yes? yes 
> 
> anyway this was tricky to write so tell me what you think! i love hearing from you❤️


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